


Tequila

by yeaka



Category: The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: Drunkenness, F/F, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 16:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21274133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: A moment in a bar.





	Tequila

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Good Wife or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The case is a brutal one, but sometimes it feels like they’re _all_ brutal; she’s gotten her wish, and risen high up enough in the world that she only sees the worst of it. But she’s not supposed to think about that. The whole point of coming to the bar is to leave work behind, so Alicia downs another shot and savours the way it burns. 

“I hope you have a designated driver tonight,” Kalinda chuckles over the noise of the crowd and the pulsing music. They try to pick classier places, at least classy enough not to blast the irritating electronic pounding noise her kids call ‘music,’ but some nights, that trend pervades everywhere. Or maybe that pounding is actually just her own pulse in her ears. Alicia’s hammered enough to hear that faint buzzing that means she’s had too many. She grins wide at Kalinda, and Kalinda grins back. She lifts her brow and teases, “Don’t even think about it.” Then she slams back her drink as if to drive that point home. She’ll be no good behind the wheel either. 

That’s why the good lord invented taxis. Alicia snorts just from _thinking_ that absurd expression. Kalinda elbows her and muses, “You’re getting in a better mood every minute.”

Somehow, it’s true. Alicia started the day _exhausted_, like she does most days, running around like a headless chicken trying to balance a broken marriage, growing children, and a job that works her to the bone. Alcohol and grinding bodies shouldn’t fix that. A perfect second of clarity flitters in: it’s _Kalinda’s company_ that really comforts her. It’s so good to have a real _friend_. And not just another woman slogging through a PTA meeting, pretending to bond over vague lifestyle similarities. Kalinda actually _gets_ her. Kalinda gets everybody. She’s the slyest, most intelligent creature Alicia’s ever met, and in the dim lighting and neon flickers of the bar, she’s one of the most beautiful. She has her hair drawn up in the usual stylized bun, a few stray strands drifting across her forehead, framing her dark features. Her biker-esque clothing fits far better in the drunken atmosphere than Alicia’s suit, but Kalinda also just fits in everywhere she goes. She puts her glass down on the counter and leans closer so she doesn’t have to yell so loud. She tells Alicia in her smoky purr, “You need to unwind more.”

“What do you call this?” Alicia tries to take another sip to prove her point, but her glass is already empty. She gives it a forlorn look and considers replacing it, then wonders idly, oddly, if she could convince Kalinda to buy her another. There was a point in time where she could probably get all her drinks for free. She’d have to flirt at least a little for it, though. 

Kalinda asks, “Is it working?”

“Yes,” Alicia decides, then, because it’s Kalinda and she can’t help being more honest, “No.” Kalinda laughs. Alicia does too, because that’s so very _her_. Her life is never easy, straight answers. She tries to justify, “There’s just too much going on to shut my mind off completely.”

“So try something else.”

“Like what?” 

Kalinda waggles her eyebrows, rouged lips quirking at the side. Alicia snorts. She doesn’t have _time_ for that. Or energy. Or even interest. Sometimes she desperately _wants_ to be part of a ‘we’ again, but every time she tries, it goes horribly wrong. Then Kalinda’s dragging her stool across the floor, and suddenly, she’s ducking in to peck Alicia’s mouth. 

Alicia ‘mmph’s in surprise. Kalinda takes advantage of it, tilting and licking across Alicia’s lips, slipping in between them when they part, and then Alicia has a mouthful of Kalinda’s tongue. Warm and wet, it laps at her walls, twisting deeper, drenched in the bitterness of the same drink Alicia had. For that brief few seconds, she gets lost in it—in the intimacy, the softness, the exhilarating feeling of being _with_ someone, someone she respects and loves. She’s caught in Kalinda’s orbit. Kalinda’s rich perfume claws into her body, Kalinda’s fingers gently stroking her cheek. When Kalinda pulls back, Alicia feels winded. 

She blinks. Kalinda smiles like it was nothing and returns to her glass. 

For the first time in what feels like years, Alicia’s mind is truly empty. Her body’s gone numb to its extremities, then burns up again, and alarm bells start going off—technically, she’s married. But he cheated first. Alicia has every right to have her fun with a woman ten times as good as the one that Peter chose. She knows she needs to get past it. Past Peter. Past Will. She should do what she wants, and she wants—

She mutters, “I’m drunk,” and drops her chin into her hand. “I should go home.” Maybe she just imagined the whole thing. Kalinda dons a strangely delicate smile. She doesn’t look at Alicia again. She looks almost _vulnerable._

Ever understanding, she agrees, “Okay.” She slips off her stool, and Alicia follows suit, fumbling with her phone for a taxi and maybe still caught up in Kalinda.


End file.
